‘Holy hell, love. I didn’t withdraw.’
****
‘Hmm?’ Morven heard his words through a post-coital haze and frowned. ‘Didn’t what?’ Did she really have to try to decipher his words? She was happy, sated and in no mood to think anything other than that she was spent.
‘Withdraw,’ Fraser said baldly. ‘I filled you with my seed. You could be with child.’
Her legs were sticky and indeed she felt full, but really? How did he know? Could he said could. Listen, do not jump to conclusions. He is but a mere man not one who can look at a woman and say she is with child or not. Morven prayed she was correct or she really was in the mire.
‘You did,’ Morven agreed with the first part of his comment. That had to be true. The rest? ‘Not withdraw. You did fill me, and most satisfactorily as well. However, I doubt I am.’ She wasn’t even going to think about it yet. What was the point? They couldn’t undo what was done. ‘With child,’ she added in case he was in any doubt to what she referred. ‘It is unlikely.’ She pressed her point home.
‘Nevertheless, you do not know,’ Fraser stated the obvious and Morven bit back the retort of “neither do you” that sprang easily to her lips. Now was not the time to snipe. She glowered.
‘Nor do I know,’ he said with a snap. ‘Of course I don’t.’ He spoke the last few words more temperately.
Was he a mind reader? Morven nodded.
‘But it was stupid and irresponsible. I’m sorry, it was not my intention to put you at risk,’ Fraser said in a remorseful tone. ‘I’m not a callow youth. I should have thought and known when to pull back.’
‘Ah…ah, I see.’ He was worried about his lack of control, whereas she revelled in it. She reached up and stroked his cheek. ‘Stop worrying. Nothing happened all those years ago; nothing will happen now.’ Or it shouldn’t, she thought as she reckoned up the days since her last menses. Her mama had told her of the belief by some that a woman was more fertile at certain times in her cycle and Morven hoped it was true.
Fraser shook his head. ‘But… Hell, woman, just because we were lucky last time means nothing. It could have happened this time. Do women become more fertile with age? It is not something we males know a lot about.’
Nor did she. ‘Fraser, if it happens I will deal with it,’ Morven said firmly. His eyes widened and he blanched. Oh Lord I never thought he would think of that. ‘No I would not go to a healer for herbs or the like. I would love any child we made. But seriously it is not likely. I…’ She paused. How much did men understand about a woman’s cycle? ‘My most fertile time is over a week away.’
He nodded then raised one eyebrow in surprise. ‘You have times…’ He held his hands up. ‘Perhaps not the time to inform me of all a woman’s secrets, but I had heard…’
Lord, Morven was sure her face was scarlet. Was it normal to exchange pleasantries about the workings of one’s body with one…one’s what…one’s whatever. Well, she thought fiercely, it bloody should be. Then excuses and snappy moments need not be explained away with inane statements.
‘Just so, and now is not the time.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Fraser stroked his chin. ‘Lord, love, I was so carried away in the moment, I didn’t think.’
‘Well nor did I or I would have pulled off you,’ Morven said and slumped down on top of him. Fraser’s heartbeat resonated beneath her cheek as he caressed her back in long, rhythmic stokes. If she were a feline she would have purred. It was comforting, not rousing, but hinted at what could be once more. ‘Perhaps it was a salutary lesson?’ she said semi-seriously. ‘No more coupling.’
‘Oh no.’ His words rumbled through her. ‘A salutary lesson yes, but one to say carry a towel and it will be a timely reminder. Perhaps ink on my forehead. “Pull out.”’
Morven laughed—it was that or cry—and wriggled backwards until her feet hit the floor and she stood up. Such a magical moment brought crashing down by real life. Time to return to reality. ‘Why is it we can not keep our hands to ourselves when we are around each other?’
‘Attraction, lust, need?’ He smiled. ‘Love?’
Morven bit back the glib reply she had been about to make. His expression was serious and his eyes dark with emotion. ‘Do you think so?’ She honestly did not know. ‘Can it live and not wither and die for all this time without being nurtured?’ It was something she had often wondered about over the years. How would she feel if she ever saw him again? Dare she really open her heart and find out?
‘It seems so to me,’ Fraser replied soberly. Then his eyes crinkled up at the corners and the depth appeared full of devilment. ‘And if you’re not sure I’ll be sure to help you agree.’
That was something she worried about. It would be oh so easy to let herself be overwhelmed by him and not really understand her feelings. ‘I’m sure you would. I’ll think about it.’ Morven picked her skirt up from the floor, inspected it for dust, and shook it. ‘I have a horrid feeling we need to make a move.’
Fraser stared at the angle of the sun and groaned. ‘I think you are correct. Come on, and on the way back we can think up excuses as to why we came and why we were away so long.’
Oh Lord, she did not like the sound of that at all. ‘I don’t suppose you could say you fought off pirates?’
In the event they didn’t have to make any excuses. As they trotted into the stable yard it was obvious by the quiet that the carriage hadn’t returned from the village. A missive was waiting to explain the ladies had accepted an offer from the minister’s wife to partake of afternoon tea, attend an early evening church service, and have a light supper before returning—one of the perks of summer being long light evenings.
Murren, presumably not yet in a companionable frame of mind, was still in her room, and had asked for a tray to be sent up.
‘Then—’ Fraser stripped off his gloves and put them on the entrance hall table ‘—it will be you and I. Shall we dress informally and eat in the small dining room in an hour? Then we’ll have time for a stroll before we get company.’
Morven curtsied very properly and his eyes widened as he chuckled.
‘I rather like that.’
She tapped her lips. ‘Don’t get too used to it, my lord. It’s reserved for special occasions.’
‘And special people?’
‘Well of course. Now if I have to be presentable within an hour, informally dressed or not, I need to dash. Excuse me, please.’ Morven checked the hall hastily to make sure no servants were present, lifted her skirts and took the stairs two at a time. She chuckled to herself and shook her head as a long low whistle floated up after her.
He was incorrigible, and if she were honest she loved it, Morven decided as she washed and donned a pretty tea gown of pink and cream stripes, and caught up a shawl in the same shades. Peggy, the maid who was helping her twisted Morven’s long hair into a simple knot at the back of her head and nodded with approval. ‘You look perfect, my lady.’
Morven twisted from side to side in front of the cheval mirror. ‘Hmm I’ll pass muster anyway. You have dressed my hair beautifully, Peggy.’ The young maid blushed with pleasure.
‘’Twern’t hard, m’lady. It’s lovely hair you have. I’m hoping one day I’ll be a proper dresser, so all the practice I get is good for me,’ Peggy said earnestly.
‘I foresee you will be besieged with offers,’ Morven replied sincerely. If she didn’t have a personal maid at Welland she’d be tempted to ask Peggy to return south with her when she departed. ‘Now I best go or I’ll be late. You need not wait up for me. Off you go and enjoy your evening.’ The maid curtsied and Morven sighed in relief. She would not have been able to dismiss her maid at home as easily. There she would have been told that she would need help and help was what she would get. Mavis had been her nursemaid and would always speak with the familiarity of someone who had changed her, fed her, scolded her and cuddled her. She’d been due to accompany them until a bad toothache had laid her low and Morven insiste
d she stopped at Welland and had the tooth drawn.
Peggy scurried out and after one last critical look at herself in the mirror, Morven tweaked a few strands of hair from the knot to rest tantalisingly close to her bosom, where the dress was cut low and teasing. It could be made demure with the insertion of a lace fichu. She hadn’t bothered to use that. Not that night. Tonight she wanted to tease Fraser, to watch his reactions and see how she responded. There might not be many more chances before she learned their fate. Whatever that was, it seemed inevitable things would change.
With a row of tiny buttons and silk ribbons down the front—the sort Fraser said all those years ago, teased and delayed anything and everything—Morven didn’t deny the dress was not easy to get out of. But just in case she was escorted to her room, she intended to ensure no one else was around to see who her helper was.
Fraser stood at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the newel post. He was the epitome of a gentleman of leisure in starched linen, grey striped waistcoat under a darker grey jacket, immaculate pantaloons and exquisite house shoes. To her gratification his eyes widened and an expression of what she decided was appreciation mixed with lust spread over his face.
‘I do hope I haven’t kept you waiting,’ Morven said demurely, and then spilled her ladylike attitude with a giggle. ‘I did rush, but these buttons you know.’
He looked her up and down, slowly, and lingered on the three closest to the neckline of the gown. ‘Those buttons,’ Fraser repeated, ‘should be banned. Or cut off. Hell, woman, fumbling with the ties is hard enough, but threading those tiny things through a gap designed to make the nimblest-fingered man swear is a bloody nightmare. If it wasn’t for the thought of the feast at the end, I’d be a gibbering wretch.’ He tugged on the end of one pink silk ribbon until it almost, but not quite untied. Did she imagine it, or did her breast swell as his finger only just touched the soft mound of skin?
Morven raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh you think you will attend to them then?’
‘I know I will,’ Fraser said frankly as he held his arm out to her. Was he talking about breasts or ribbons? She hardly knew but the end result was the same.
An intention that he would attend to them.
‘After food. I think I may need plenty of stamina. Shall we? Or I fear the supper in the dining room will have to wait whilst I sup elsewhere.’ His expression told her exactly what he meant by that. Her tummy rumbled and Fraser sighed. ‘Food for the body first, for the soul will have to wait.’
****
‘So what shall we do today?’ Murren asked as they sat at the breakfast table. She seemed to have forgotten her bad mood and Morven decided it best not to bring it up.
‘Do? You mean Mama has not got our day mapped out?’ Morven sipped her chocolate and regarded her sister over the rim of her cup. If she had her way, she would sit in the rose garden and dream about the previous night when Fraser had once more visited her room and demonstrated all the ways they could please each other. Now she ached in the most unusual places, in the nicest way possible, and had had to choose her gown carefully so no telltale red marks on her soft skin were on view. Even the thought of how he had settled her on her knees and entered her from behind made her body tighten and her nipples harden. To say nothing of the way he had shown her how to take him in her mouth and arouse him.
‘Mama and Lady Napier are supervising jam making I believe.’ Murren wrinkled her nose as she spread some of the previous year’s offerings over warm bread, and brought Morven’s mind back from the antics of the bedchamber into the breakfast room.
‘Early rhubarb I think.’ Murren shook her head. ‘I swear Mama would do no such thing at home.’
Morven grasped the topic gratefully. Her mind wouldn’t focus properly on anything except Fraser and… Stop it. ‘Yes she would,’ she said with a grin. ‘However, there it would be called interfering.’
Murren giggled. ‘I suppose so. Therefore what shall we do? According to his mama, Fraser will be out all day, so it is only us.’
Again? Was fate—or parents—conspiring to keep them apart? Because if so, it—or they—were only partly succeeding. The throbbing between her legs increased and she shuffled on the chair. This was ridiculous; she had to snap out of it.
‘Morven, I said shall we go for a walk to the river?’ Murren poked her in the side. ‘Hello, are you listening?’
‘Pardon? Oh.’ Morven had been so involved in her thoughts she’d missed her sister’s question. She dragged her mind back to the present. ‘Why not?’
‘And skim stones.’
Morven laughed. Murren’s propensity for the innocent pastime was well known in their family, and frowned upon by their parent. ‘It’s as well Mama won’t be with us then. Wear some older clothes.’
‘I have none with me,’ Murren said worriedly. ‘What should I do?’
Morven patted her hand. ‘Not worry for a start. You will after you’ve been messing about by the river for any length of time.’
Which turned out to be true.
The banks were slippery, and after one slide too many where only Morven’s grip saved her sister from disaster, Morven called a halt. ‘I think we better just walk away from the edge. Your skimming crown is safe. Perhaps it would be best to go across the field to the road and back to the castle that way.’
Murren looked at the track, her boots and finally at Morven. Her expression was one of worry, and she sighed gusty enough to move the reeds at the side of the river.
‘It might be as well,’ she said. ‘I really do not want to annoy Mama any more. I wish she would realise I’m not outgoing like you. I don’t want to be influential, or run a large household. I want a quiet life, with someone who loves me as me. If I’m blessed with children I want to see them growing up, be part of their lives all the time, not just for half an hour each day.’ Her face was full of misery. Morven hugged her and Murren returned the embrace. ‘Is it too much to ask for?’
‘No it isn’t,’ Morven replied firmly. I want that as well. ‘We deserve more than society thinks we should be satisfied with.’ She chuckled. ‘Good Lord, I sound like Mary Wollstonecraft. It’s as well Mama isn’t around to hear me, she’d lock me in my room on bread and water until I mended my ways. Come on, let’s go over the stile and head for the castle.’
They walked along in companionable silence, each, Morven assumed, absorbed by their own thoughts, until Murren clutched Morven’s arm and brought her out of her reverie. ‘Morven, who is that coming towards us?’
A tall stately lady with long black hair, even darker than Morven’s, that flowed around her shoulders and to her waist walked briskly towards them and stopped a few feet away. Her dress of reds and golds glittered in the sunlight, and swirled around her bare feet.
‘My ladies, you were looking for me.’ It wasn’t couched as a question.
‘Were we?’ Morven asked as Murren took a step back. Really, Morven thought with exasperation, Murren might be shy, but that is ridiculous. She’d need to speak firmly to her sister about it before long. So much seemed put on. However, not at that moment. The unknown woman was looking at her quizzically.
‘I don’t think so, thank you,’ Morven said composedly.
The woman’s eyes crinkled and she smiled in a way that conveyed secrets. ‘Oh but I know so, Lady Morven, so come with me.’ Her eyes, darker than the night sky, seemed to bore into Morven. It should have made her wary, but instead to her surprise it made her settled, warm and safe. A strange feeling and one she’d rarely experienced except in Fraser’s arms.
‘Should we?’ Murren whispered worriedly. ‘How does she know your name?’
Morven shrugged. She couldn’t feel anything untoward, and she seemed to have a sense that shouted “beware” when necessary, or she thought with a jolt, she did up here, in Scotland. Now she realised she had no such thing south of the border. For almost eight years that itch to warn her to be on her guard had been absent, and not she decided because it was not n
eeded. There had been many a time it would have come in handy.
Now though? Nothing. So they might as well see what happened. After all if the woman led them in a direction they didn’t want to go, there were two of them and one of her. A quick turnabout would be easy. ‘Why not.’
‘It will be in your best interests,’ the woman said, as they left the track and walked towards some buildings a few hundred yards ahead. ‘Both of you. The young lassie? She’s troubled by different things than you, my lady Morven. Come and sit.’ She gestured to a low stone wall surrounding a cottage. ‘Let me explain.’
Murren went white. Morven squeezed her hand. There was nothing she could do except sit outside the building and wait to hear what the lady had to impart.
‘We’re listening,’ she said as the lady settled on the ground in front of them, her skirts spread around her. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Jessie; that’s all you need to know.’ She dipped her head and Morven noticed a streak of white hair, no more than a finger’s width in the dark depths. ‘I’ve waited long for you to return, my lady. To have your sister with you is a bonus.’ She looked intently at Morven. ‘Are you ready to open your mind?’
‘What do I have to lose?’ Morven asked wryly. ‘As long as you accept I might still not take heed.’
Jessie laughed. ‘I expect nothing less. And you?’ She turned to Murren. ‘Will you trust your sister, and listen to what I have to tell you?’
Morven waited. Come on, Murren, show some backbone.
Murren looked at Morven. She sighed. Don’t make me say it.
‘Then, yes, if it seems all right to Morven, I will listen.’
Chapter Ten
The Scottish Lord’s Secret Bride Page 14
